


better run before you steal my heart

by soulas



Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, beware cliches are everywhere, cop/robber au, this is possibly the most self-indulgent thing i've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-22 19:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17065526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulas/pseuds/soulas
Summary: All Andrew can see at night is a sharp grin and silver hair at the edge of his vision.





	better run before you steal my heart

**Author's Note:**

> i just like the idea of steven lim, charismatically manipulative bank forger

Andrew is sick of looking at numbers. Counting and comparing bank numbers and cross-referencing deposits and withdrawals and emailing banks all across the country to confirm bills and accounts and—

“If I’m doing the work of an accountant, I at least wish I was getting the pay of an accountant,” he mutters.

“This is the worst,” Adam agrees. “Heads up.” He drops a giant box filled to the brim with paper accounts and old checks onto the table. 

“Jesus Christ,” Andrew says, rubbing his eyes.

-  


Their target is good. They have nothing on him—no name, no appearance, no motive. They know that he started in Ohio and they assume his motivation is money, but apart from that it’s been a grueling eight months of tracking him back and forth, from the east coast to the west coast, always three steps behind. 

“That’s another eight thousand missing,” Adam says, handing over the records to Andrew. 

Andrew stares at the check notes and the neat, looping handwriting that he’s become so familiar with. He sighs and starts to log it into their research.

-

The bar is loud and crowded and Andrew’s head is spinning with a throbbing combination of not enough sleep and way too much alcohol. He looks up to order another drink and makes eye contact with a man sitting on the other side of the bar. _He’s really pretty_ , Andrew’s brain registers vaguely. This is the fourth time they’ve accidentally stared at each other. The other man winks and walks over.

He’s not usually like this but Andrew’s stressed and sleep-deprived and just so frustrated with everything, and he lets himself be shoved into the bathroom stall and lets this stranger slide his hands against him. 

“Little bit of a puss, I see,” the man whispers in his ear. “Little bit of a pushover, huh, Inspector Ilnyckyj?” 

Andrew just groans when the man bites into the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

They take a taxi to Andrew’s place and Andrew tries desperately not to commit a crime of public indecency on the way back. His partner does not have the same concerns. 

In his bedroom, the man pushes Andrew onto his bed and somewhere along the way, they lose their clothes and then he has Andrew pinned with his hands above his head, running his tongue over a bite that’s definitely going to bruise tomorrow. 

Andrew allows himself to forget everything and just lets this stranger fuck him into his mattress, never mind the rational part of his brain reminding him of things like work and sobriety and constraint. In the morning he wakes up alone with wrinkled sheets and an ache in his lower back.

At work, Adam raises an eyebrow. “Try and not look so relaxed just because you got laid,” he says, a little bitterly Andrew thinks. 

-

Two nights later, Andrew sits straight up in his bed at 3:30 am. 

_I never told him my name. How the fuck did he know my name?_

When he tells Adam, Adam doesn’t say anything at first. Then he puts down his pen and says, “Andrew, you need to take a break from this case. This is pathological.”

“Adam, I’m telling you—”

“You’re telling me that a random guy you met at a bar and had a one night stand with is also the bank forgery guy we’ve been tracking for months?”

Andrew groans and runs his hands through his hair. “I know how crazy it sounds, but he knew my name, okay? And my rank, I just. What else could it be?”

“It could be that you were drunk. And you forgot that you told him before.” 

Andrew leaves the room before he says something he knows he’ll regret. 

A week later, Andrew gets the first note. It’s slipped into his mailbox in a plain, unremarkable envelope. But when he opens it, two pictures fall out with a folded piece of paper. One of the pictures is a blurry shot of Andrew sleeping in his bed. He must have taken it before he left Andrew’s apartment the other night. There’s a bunch of highlighter pink hearts drawn over his face. The second picture is much clearer image of Andrew and Adam waiting in line at some deli. Andrew recognizes it and remembers that they’d gone to that bakery before he had slept with the piece of shit they’re tracking. The piece of paper is blank except for a winking emoticon scribbled in the corner. 

;)

“That asshole,” Andrew growls and dials Adam. “I told you so,” he says when Adam picks up, but there’s no real spite in his voice.   


-

“Okay,” Adam says, shuffling the notes they’ve gathered on their target so far (which isn’t a whole lot). “Tell me everything.”

“Probably around six foot. East Asian male, maybe around 25, 26. His hair is like this weird shade of silver grey. Uh, probably 150 pounds. He said his name was Steven but—”

“But there’s no way that’s his real name.”

“Yeah. So a pretty broad profile.”

Adam tosses him a granola bar. “Eat,” he says. “And then we’re going to go through the whole criminal database and see if we can find a match.”

(They don’t find a match.) Andrew tries to sleep in between scanning routing numbers, but every time he closes his eyes he just sees an infuriatingly cheerful face smiling at him, silver hair turned pink in the club lighting. 

-

Two months later, Andrew gets a call from an unlisted number but he has no time to negotiate out of a debt he never accumulated so he ignores it. A voicemail notification pops up. 

_Hey Andrew_. Even through the shitty audio quality, Andrew can hear the smug tone.  _This is getting a little boring. So how about we change things up, huh? Hit me up in LA, baby. There’s a pretty good taco truck on South La Brea. You’ll probably get there before me since you’re so close to Cali. Catch you there!_

“Goddamnit,” he mutters. “Fucking piece of shit…Adam! Do we have that phone tracking software from IT?”

The call is traced to New York City. 

Andrew massages his temples. “Jesus Christ. Okay, the call came in around three hours ago, so he’s either still in NYC or he’s on the way the LA. There’s five airports in NYC, let’s see if we can nab him via transport.”

Yeah, spoiler alert, they miss him. Either he had rewired the call so it carried a New York signature or he had the whole thing planned to the perfect second and as soon as he hung up, he took off for LA. 

What they do get is the record of people traveling from New York City to Los Angeles in the past week. And that’s where they get the passport details and picture of Steven Lim.  

“That’s him,” Andrew says, too exhausted to sound excited. “That’s him, oh my god, _finally_.”

Adam shoves his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Okay. I’ve booked tickets to Los Angeles. We’re going to get this guy.”

“I can’t believe he gave me his real name,” Andrew mutters. “What kind of cocky bastard…”

-

They wait for three days at the taco truck before giving up. Adam orders a couple of tacos before they leave, and when he starts to eat them on the drive back to Chicago, he chokes. There’s a piece of plastic in one of the tacos. Written on it are the words:  _Close call, fellows. Next time, you shouldn’t trust a stranger. LA was nice but I think I’m craving some deep dish. See you back home!_

“Jesus Christ,” Adam says under his breath and hurls the plastic against the window.

Andrew just sets his jaw and hits the gas. 

-  


The next letter arrives soon after their wasted expedition. In it is a picture of Steven standing in front of the taco truck in LA, smiling widely and holding up his paper slip container of tacos. on the back he wrote:  _Almost as tasty as you, Inspector Ilnyckyj. Round two maybe?_

Andrew resists the urge to rip the picture in two. He scribbles out the crude note before handing the evidence to Adam. 

It was a personal jab. 

-

He jolts awake one night, exactly a year after they began hunting for this maniacal thief. 

He turns over in his bed and somehow isn’t surprised to find Steven Lim leaning against his nightstand. His alarm clock reads 3:41.

“Happy anniversary,” Steven says brightly. There’s a gun in his hand and Andrew knows if he moves a hair out of place, this will all be over. 

“How romantic,” he notes, in a voice scratchy from sleep. “Is that a grenade tucked into your pants or are you just happy to see me?”

Steven laughs and waves the gun in the direction of the kitchen. “I left a little something for you. And Adam. You boys have been working hard.”

Andrew doesn’t respond at first. Then he says, “We’re going to put you behind bars eventually, Lim. You can’t run forever.”

Steven shrugs. “Maybe not forever. But I think I’ve made a pretty good effort, don’t you? There’ve been times where I’ve literally bumped into you or Adam on the streets and you never noticed. I think you’re just not very competent detectives.”

Andrew’s blood boils but he smooths out his tone. “Are you flirting with me, sir?”

Steven leans down and grabs Andrew’s shirt to pull him up and kiss him. It’s less of a sentimental action and a more of one trying to overpower the other, and when they finally break apart, Andrew thinks his lip is bleeding and even in the dark he can see that Steven’s mouth is swollen red.

“Gotta go,” Steven says breathlessly. “I’ll see you around, Officer.” And he keeps his gun trained on Andrew all the way until he backflips out of his window. Andrew lives on the sixteenth floor of his apartment complex, and he listens a little hopefully for the morbid sound of body hitting concrete that he knows will never come.

“Son of a bitch,” Andrew says to the empty apartment, and reaches for his phone to call Adam. There’s a weird smile on his face though. They’re closing on Steven Lim, he can feel it. And when they finally catch him, he’s going to kiss the hell out of him and then he’s going to arrest that slippery motherfucker. 

-

On his kitchen counter he finds a box of chocolates with a withered rose beside it. Steven’s predictably smooth handwriting reads “Happy first.” 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://sovnly.tumblr.com/)


End file.
